The Unlikely Road Taken
by Glennfiddich12
Summary: The US decides to come to the aid of a new ally. The SGC faces combat once more.
1. Default Chapter

PRELUDE

Eastern Afghanistan  
Summer 2004

"Well, isn't this the life" muttered someone from behind. All Sergeant Patrick Joyce could manage was a slight nod of his head. He was thinking roughly the same thought.

SGT Joyce and his fellow members of A Company, 1st Battalion, 87th Infantry Regiment of the 10th Mountain Division had shared such thoughts since arriving in eastern Afghanistan. Their mission was to work with other units to flesh out the remaining pockets of Taliban and Al-Qaeda fighters who were making life difficult for the new national government in Kabul. They were also on the lookout for the most wanted man on the planet, Osama Bin-Laden. Intelligence (for whatever that was worth), had placed him somewhere in eastern Afghanistan and western Pakistan.

Joyce and his fellow soldiers at this moment found themselves 10,000 feet up in this God-forsaken mountain range because a local warlord had told his CIA handlers of a Taliban sighting in the area.

This is first-class B.S. is all Joyce thought of the intel.

A Co. had been rucking through this mountain range for three days with no tangible results except a constant feeling of utter exhaustion and the related anger. Even A Co.'s gung-ho commander, Captain Brian Hernandez, was fuming.

"Hold up" came the whispered order from the front of the patrol. Everyone went to one knee and began scanning the surrounding countryside. Sergeant First Class Aubrey Little, Joyce's platoon sergeant came waddling over.

"Listen up; we've got movement about 500 meters ahead. Joyce, take your squad and move slowly into position by that outcropping to our right. Set up in a line of fire to cover 1st squad's advance." Little had a look of concern Joyce had seen before. There was no-shit trouble ahead.

Joyce turned to his guys, "Let's move."

Joyce and his men moved with a quiet precision that came from hundreds of hours of training together both in the states and here in the 'Stan. They set up and began to watch as 1st Squad moved forward. It was deathly quiet and hot as hell. The quiet part had Joyce worried. Something's not right here Joyce thought as the moments ticked by. This feeling is one that Joyce had developed after 3 and a half years of hard soldiering in some crappy locations. Those feeling usually have a way of panning out.

BOOM!

BOOM!

Mortar rounds began to impact the precise location of 1st Squad and A Co.'s leadership element. Joyce could hear orders being given over the tactical radio frequency.

"Displace! Move for cover!

A call for close air support went out but the answer was not good. It would be 10-20 minutes before any aircraft would be in position.

Joyce used his binoculars to scan what he suspected was the area where the mortar was set up. His radio crackled:

"Joyce, take your people and attempt to flank the position from the right!"

"Roger that," responded Joyce. "OK people, let's go. Follow me!"

Joyce and his fellow soldiers started to make their way across the barren moonscape of the mountainside. They could see and hear additional mortar rounds as they impacted near the rest of A Co. Finally, the found themselves looking straight up at a ledge about eight feet above their heads. Joyce turned to Corporal Dan LaFontaine, a tall, scrappy type from Pennsylvania who served as his assistant squad leader.

"Dan, position here with the squad! Lift me up and I'm going to take a look at this ledge!"

LaFontaine and another soldier lifted Joyce up and helped him crawl over the edge and onto the precipice. He stayed in the prone position and crawled forward a couple of feet. What he saw was not good.

Five Afghans in their usual burkhas and turbans were manning what appeared to be an old Russian mortar similar to the American 88mm. They were feeding rounds and adjusting trajectory as fast as they could. One was kneeled on the other side of the ledge with binoculars doing the spotting.

No way I can get my guys up here without them knowing. Shit, this will have to be a one man job. Joyce could hear on the tactical net that they were taking casualties.

Well, it's now or never!

Joyce leapt up and began to run as fast as he could. There was about 20 feet between him and the mortar crew. He leveled his M-4 rifle to his shoulder. To his horror, one of the Taliban grunts finally saw him and screamed in Pashtun. Without thinking, Joyce screamed:

"Hey, tough guy!" His first shot took a Taliban off his feet and dropped him hard. Years of training took over as he aimed at the next two manning the mortar. He got the first with five rounds to the chest that exploded into a shower of blood. The next grunt tried to turn and run but that got him shot in the back.

Three down, two to go was all that registered in his mind. His world had become a black tunnel as his body adjusted to the stress. Joyce made it around the mortar as Taliban #4 reached for his rifle. His first shot missed low and to the left but the follow-on shots ruined Taliban #4's day.

The mortar spotter stood at the far end of the ledge and pulled out a PPK pistol as Joyce came to face him. The spotter screamed as he fired. His first two rounds went wild but then suddenly:

WHACK!

Joyce felt the impact of the bullet as it hit his left shoulder outside his Interceptor vest and tore into muscle and bone. Somehow, Joyce remained standing and through the haze of pain let loose the remainder of his 30 round magazine. The rounds began striking the Taliban soldier in the mid-section and paraded up his chest, ending in a crescendo of rounds that exploded his head and neck in a disgusting bloodbath.

Oh, man…

Just as quickly as the stress-induced tunnel vision had come, it departed even quicker. Joyce felt the massive weight of pain hit him like a freight train. Before he knew it, he was surrounded by the company's medics, who were barking orders and working on his shoulder at a fever pitch. Then out of the mist of anarchy, Joyce heard the voice of his company CO:

"That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen…"

And so it begins…

CHAPTER ONE

SGC  
Cheyenne Mountain Air Station, CO  
Six Months Later

This was actually one part of the morning that he liked. At least that's what Brigadier General Jonathan "Jack" O'Neill, USAF, told himself. He could sit in his office (the idea of having an office bothering him in the first place), drink some coffee and gather his thoughts for another day of both bureaucratic combat and quite possibly, the real thing.

What a way to run a railroad was all he could muster for a thought this early. O'Neill glanced at his schedule and saw all manner of mundane tasks that he didn't relish. Before he could let loose some choice words his aide-de-camp knocked and entered.

"Sir, you have a 0930 appointment with Colonel Proconti from JSOC." JSOC stands for Joint Special Operations Command, the unified command responsible for all US military special operations units and is based at Fort Bragg, NC. Col. John Proconti serves as JSOC's liaison to the SGC and as the defacto talent scout for potential SGC personnel, mainly off-world travelers. "He's scheduled to meet with you in the conference room."

"Yeah, I know. I'll be heading over in a minute."

O'Neill stood to leave, grabbing some files and his all-important coffee on the way. As he made his way down the hall, he noticed his friend and the SGC's resident cultural expert, Dr. Daniel Jackson, coming his way.

"What?"

Jackson looked incredulous. "I didn't say anything. And good morning to you too."

"Yeah, but I know you will. Listen, I'm on my way to see Col. Proconti from JSOC about a new batch of potentials. Why don't you tag along? I like getting your academic viewpoint about some of these people and their experiences."

"Sure, but I don't know what you want to hear."

"Just your opinion. You don't usually have trouble with that."

"Ha, you're pretty funny."

O'Neill and Daniel entered to find Proconti already waiting for them. He moved to stand but was waved down by O'Neill, who was never big on protocol.

"Good to see you John, you remember Dr. Daniel Jackson."

"Yes, it's good to see you again Dr. Jackson."

"Likewise, Colonel." Daniel looked at Proconti and saw nothing but soldier. He was an experience "operator" who had come to this assignment from commanding the 10th Special Forces Group at nearby Fort Carson, Colorado. He was a serious character who took his job even more seriously. Jackson could respect that.

O'Neill got things started. "Okay, John, what have you brought me?"

"I think you'll be interested in some of these people. I've brought the files on about 30 who we think should be closely looked at. In keeping with our last conversation, five are from outside the traditional Special Ops community but have unique experience."

"Let's take a look."

The three spent the next 2 hours going over personnel files and background investigations. All of the checks were exhaustive and basically contained the sum total of each person's personal and professional accomplishments, blemishes and missteps. All had extensive operational experience and were highly trained. One file caught Daniel's eye.

"Tell me a little more about this guy."

Proconti took the file and opened it. "General, this is one of the five I was telling you about. Sergeant Patrick Joyce, US Army. He's currently assigned to the 10th Mountain Division at Fort Drum, NY. Interestingly enough, a graduate of Fordham University in New York City. A double major in History and Medieval Studies. Minored in Theology."

"Not the average resume of an infantryman in the 10th."

Proconti continued, "He had high scores on all areas on the ASVAB." The ASVAB is the vocational test required by the US military of all entrants. "He's also a graduate of Ranger School, Airborne and Air Assault qualified. He served a tour with the 101st Airborne Division during the invasion of Iraq. Awarded the Silver Star and Purple Heart for actions in eastern Afghanistan. It seems he did a Soprano's job on five Taliban foot soldiers who were mortaring his company."

O'Neill looked over the file. "He sounds interesting, but what is a guy with his background doing in the infantry? Fordham degrees aren't exactly common in line infantry units." 

"Says here that he lost five friends on 9/11 and that motivated him to join the Army."

O'Neill whistled. "Well, we're not looking for people on a revenge kick. John, meet with him, take a closer look and then let me know. If he's our type, we'll bring him out for an interview."

"Yes sir." 


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Headquarters, 1-87th Infantry  
Fort Drum, NY

Sergeant Patrick Joyce wasn't sure what was going on as he walked towards battalion headquarters. What could I have done wrong? The thought kept flashing through his head as he approached the building. It was another cold day in upstate New York. The winter had so far been pretty harsh and showed no signs of getting better anytime soon.

It could be worse, I could be back in that Afghan shithole with half a shoulder!

Joyce was just now starting to fully recover from the wound he suffered in Afghanistan. The annoying by-product of his actions on that mountain slope was that all the new kids in the company looked at him like he walked on water and crapped lightning bolts. The battalion was now gearing up for a deployment into Iraq and would need experienced, proven NCO's such as him. He didn't consider himself special but everyone else seemed to.

He had spent time in hospitals in Afghanistan and Germany before finally being airlifted to Walter Reed Army Medical Center. The injuries he saw there made him realize how lucky he was and reinforced his inability to complain about his lot in life. Compared to his college buddies Ed, Jerry, Gary and Chris… Stop being so morbid, you moron…

Joyce finally arrived at battalion HQ and stepped through the front doors. Waiting inside was a scary site. It was none other than the battalion Sergeant Major, Sergeant Major Hector W. Nunez. Nunez was not your normal human being. Unless you consider being 6'5", 275 pounds and the winner of more medals than Audie Murphy normal. Nunez spoke with a voice straight out of central casting.

"Move your ass, Joyce. CO needs to see you pronto."

"What's going on Sergeant Major? All I was told was to haul ass down here. Did I piss the CO off or something?"

"Just get down there and see him."

Joyce checked out his BDU's as he made his way to the door. The name on the door said it all:

Lieutenant Colonel Horace J. Green Commanding Officer, 1-87 Infantry

Everyone just called him the Old Man.

Joyce knocked twice and waited. Then came Lt. Col. Green's hoarse voice:  
"Enter!"

Joyce entered the office and positioned himself in front of the CO's desk.

"Sergeant Patrick Joyce reporting as ordered, sir!"

The Colonel returned Joyce's salute and ordered him to stand at ease. It was then that Joyce noticed the full-bird Colonel sitting on a couch on the left side of the office. Lt. Col. Green spoke up.

"Sergeant Joyce, how's the shoulder doing?"

"Fine sir, thank you for asking."

"Joyce, this Colonel Proconti from JSOC headquarters at Fort Bragg. He's here to discuss an opportunity with you." Green then turned to Proconti and said, "Colonel, I'll be down the hall if you need anything."

"Thank you."

After Green exited the office, Proconti turned to Joyce and invited him to sit down. After they were settled, Proconti got right down to business.

"Well Sergeant, tell me a little about yourself."

"Excuse me sir, but what do you want to know?"

"Start from the beginning."

"Well, I was born and raised in a small town outside Boston, Mass. called Lancaster. My parents still live there. After high school, I attended Fordham University and graduated in 2001. But you probably already know this sir, respectfully, or you wouldn't be here."

"Correct, but I have to ask. Why did you join the Army? It would seem you could have done anything with a Fordham degree."

"Sir, I lost some people I was close to on 9/11 and felt the best way to honor them was to serve my country, at least in the short term. I'm not on some vengeance thing, if that is what you're thinking."

"Sergeant, your enlistment contract comes up later this year. Were you going to enlist again?"

"Probably not sir. I was considering grad school. I had standing offers from Notre Dame, Harvard and some others when I enlisted. Why do you ask?"

"Sergeant Joyce, I'm here because your name crossed my desk. I'm looking for qualified personnel for an extremely unique duty assignment. This assignment involves extensive training and even more extensive travel to some interesting locations. It does involve an element of risk, but I can tell you that you'd be working with some of the finest people in and out of the military. It's a Joint-Service operation. Other than that there is little I can say. This is code-word classified and is a Special Access Program."

"Where would I be stationed sir?"

"The program is run out of Peterson Air Force Base in Colorado, along with other locations. I can also tell you that there is ample promotion potential along with the possibility of moving to the officer ranks through OCS. In addition, there are academic incentives. If you're interested, I'll need an answer. If it's yes, we'll bring you out to Colorado in two weeks. So what's it going to be?"

"Where do I sign?"

SGC  
Cheyenne Mountain Air Station, CO  
Two weeks later

After two rather hectic weeks, Joyce found himself standing in a classroom in a facility built within a mountain. For Joyce, this was all a little on the odd side. Checking out of Fort Drum was actually a lot easier than usual considering JSOC was greasing the administrative wheels. Nice to have colonels helping you out out-process. Joyce had to admit, life on an Air Force base didn't look too bad. Everything seemed newer and better. The food certainly beat the cuisine back at Drum.

In this classroom, he found himself with a wide variety of people, 15 in all, including himself. There were three Navy SEALS from one of the teams who looked depressed to be out of the water. In addition there were four Air Force Special Tactics operators, three Green Berets from Ft. Bragg, two Marine Force Recon guys and two Air Force Security Forces troops from a special air base defense unit in Georgia.

What an odd group we make…

They were all in their Class A dress uniforms and waiting to be told what was next when:

ROOM ATTEN..HUT!

Joyce and the others stood and snapped to attention. In walked an unimposing Air Force Brigadier General in dress uniform.

"As you were. Please take your seats. Good morning gentlemen, my name is Brigadier General Jack O'Neill. I command this facility. I'd like to welcome you to the SGC.

SGC?

"You are, I'm sure, wondering what the SGC is and what you'll be doing for us. That said, before we get started, let me remind you about the Non-Disclosure Agreements you signed during in-processing. You will be held to them, make no mistake. You are joining what I know is the most important operation in the US military."

Yeah, right Joyce thought. I've heard this line before.

"You have all been selected for this program due to the nature of your experience and your proven attributes. The information you'll be receiving today may be a bit overwhelming. We will take our time and help you as best we can in making the adjustment to this assignment."

What the hell is this all about…

"Again, welcome. I will be seeing you again later today. For the opening part of your orientation, I will turn it over to Lt. Col. Samantha Carter, a member of the staff here at the SGC. Colonel?"

"Thank you sir. Gentlemen, welcome to the SGC. There's no easy way to start this, so we usually get it right out into the open. Approximately 9 years ago, the US Air Force started using a device of alien origin to visit other planets. We call this device the Stargate…

OH SHIT… 


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

SGC  
Cheyenne Mountain AS, CO

In the week since beginning the orientation, SGT Patrick Joyce and his fellow students had their intellectual underpinnings assaulted by the knowledge of what they were getting themselves into. Fortunately, like my most members of the US military, they had an uncanny ability to adapt to the new reality and get on with the job. For Joyce, an ample amount of adult maturity allowed him to put all the various existential questions aside until the proper time. A Jesuit education at Fordham was good, but this was a little beyond the normal and rational.

Who the hell knows when that will be?

It was apparent to the group that a goodly amount of planning developed through trial and error went into the training programs here at Stargate Command. They had spent the first five days being briefed on the basics of the Stargate and how travel was accomplished. This had involved seeing the gate in operation for the first time. For an inquisitive mind like Joyce, this was stunning.

Instant travel to other planets!

They had been given the weekend off. But with the amount of studying that was required, they didn't exactly hit the bars. They stayed in guest quarters and studied the required briefing materials. On Monday, the group would begin learning about some of the potential hostile threats in the universe. They would also be briefed on the current political alliances and various power struggles of alien races.

Alien races? We're not in Kansas anymore…"

Monday morning arrived soon enough. The class assembled at 0800 in the classroom with Lt. Col. Carter and Dr. Jackson, who had been their instructors the previous week. Both were extremely intelligent and open to the plethora of questions that were normal.

The class stood at attention as Carter and Jackson entered.

"As you were, please take your seats. As you are aware, we will be spending the next two weeks getting you up to speed on the various alien races that have been encountered during SGC operations. Just like the political climate here on Earth, we have allies, enemies and dozens of worlds that we maintain diplomatic relations with. Some of these alien cultures are far more advanced than ours. Some on the other hand, are no more than nomadic tribes of Stone Age peasants. You will be learning to deal with many types of cultures. Daniel?"

Dr. Jackson took over from there and spent the first part of the day mapping out the political and cultural roadmap in broad terms. In the afternoon, the class got its first exposure to an alien.  
Into the classroom walked one of the largest men Joyce had ever seen. Well over 6 feet tall, he was a house.

"Gentlemen, allow me to introduce Teal'c. Teal'c is a Jaffa warrior. The Jaffa serve as the foot soldiers of the Goa'uld System Lords and carry larval Goa'ulds as a sort of incubator."

"It is a pleasure to meet you all," Teal'c said with a broad smile.

"Teal'c defected to Earth eight years ago and serves with Col. Carter and myself on SG-1, the lead exploration team. Teal'c will be working with you later in training on Goa'uld and Jaffa combat tactics."

Teal'c didn't seem offended by the wordless, shocked stares from the trainees. He actually appeared quite amused and used to it.

"I consider Earth my adopted home and have grown very fond of it and its people. I have seen extraordinary bravery from your fellow soldiers as they help liberate my people. I know in time I will come to value your service just as much." The noble simplicity of his words was actually touching to what was otherwise a tough group of operators.

Jackson broke the silence, "Thanks Teal'c, I'll see you later."

"My pleasure Daniel Jackson."

Meanwhile, in another part of the complex…

"We need to fix this situation and develop the capability before we have another tragedy!" The exasperation was apparent on BG O'Neill's face.

"Jack, I understand and I'm fighting for your proposal with all guns blazing." Major General George Hammond had a way with his subordinate few others could master. "Luckily, General Maynard agrees with the tenets of it as well." Hammond was referring to General Francis Maynard, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Maynard was a big supporter of the SGC and its mission. Unfortunately for Maynard, he was also juggling a wide open insurgency in Iraq, a continued Taliban presence in Eastern Afghanistan and a fractious NATO alliance. Iraq, in particular, was draining manpower and resources.

The proposal Hammond was referring to was one that had been in development for quite some time but had been formally put forth four months prior. It came out of an incident where SGC personnel were caught up in a large-scale firefight with Jaffa warriors on P3X-666 that cost lives of SGC troops, including Dr. (MAJ) Janet Frasier, the head of medical services at the SGC. The incident showed how outnumbered SGC personnel could become in short order. Quick mobilization of available SG teams was not the long term answer.

The proposal called for the creation of a Rapid Reaction Force (RRF) to be on 24-hour alert and ready to deploy through the Stargate when needed. The current proposal called for a battalion-sized force of three companies of 120 men each. One of the three companies would be on alert at all times. It was modeled on the setup used by the Army's 82nd Airborne Division at Fort Bragg, NC. Questions dogged the proposal, however:

Where do you find 300-500 troops who could keep their mouths shut?

How do we pay for it? Hiding the SGC's funding had become a bureaucratic version of Where's Waldo?

"Jack, if it helps, I'm telling you: this will happen. The President and I were discussing it last week. The devil is in the details as you know."

"I know General, but I'm dreading another battle where we're outgunned and outmanned. We're better than them in a fair fight. Hell, even at a serious disadvantage, I'll take these guys."

"Speaking of that, how's the new group? Proconti told me you were expanding the recruiting pool."

"Yes sir, we took a couple from the 820th Security Forces Group at Moody and a guy from the 10th Mountain. Carter and Daniel are raving about his intellect. I've got plans for him, I think.

Joyce's strange trip continues… 


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

SGC  
Cheyenne Mountain AS, CO

Joyce was spending his morning staring into a half-eaten bowl of Fruit Loops. The Dining Hall at the SGC was pretty good. He had spent an hour at the gym this morning working off last night's steak. This was one of those mornings where Joyce was in deep thought. The last two and a half weeks had been a considerable leap of faith for the Army infantryman. On the table next to him were his study materials in a highly organized binder. In addition was a copy of Melville's Moby Dick that he had picked up at a store near Peterson.

"Sergeant Joyce, may I join you?" Joyce looked up to see Dr. Jackson standing in front of him with his breakfast on a tray.

"Of course sir, please."

"Thanks, and please call me Daniel. Sir just doesn't sound right."

"Yes sir…Daniel."

"I saw from your records that you attended Fordham, is that correct?"

"Yes, I graduated in 2001."

"What major?"

"Double major, History and Medieval Studies. I minored in Theology."

"Sounds like they kept you busy. I have a PhD in Archeology myself. Never saw this type of thing coming. Did you study any languages?"

"Latin and Old English, both were required in the Medieval Studies Program. I also studied French in high school. I can translate the Latin. Speaking it is a little more difficult. Learning the Old English was a major league headache."

"Those language skills will certainly come in handy in the program. What do you think so far? Be honest."

"Well, honestly, what you folks do here and your ability to keep it under wraps are amazing. It can be rather difficult to find the words…It almost makes everything else going on in the world seem small by comparison. The threat seems immense based on everything you've told us. But the possibilities are also there. I'm curious to see how much longer something this big stays classified."

Daniel knew all about that subject. "True, we have had some close calls, but we've managed. I'm pretty liberal politically but even I don't think this is ready for public consumption."

"Panic?"

"Among other things. This knowledge will crack open a lot of different fissures within society, both nationally and on the world stage. Politics, religion, race, economics and morality will all be on the table. The President knows this."

"What benefit are we getting for the risk? You've spoken in general terms during class but I don't think I've heard anything specific yet."

"In the coming days you'll be getting briefed on things like Prometheus and the F-302. It's going to blow your mind."

"Any more mind-blowing information and I'll have an aneurism."

Meanwhile…

"Sir, our advisors with Jaffa Resistance report that their numbers are improving and so are their capabilities of striking at various System Lords." Marine Colonel Jeremiah Glyndon was confident in his assessment. Col. Glyndon was the SGC's J-2, or Director of Intelligence. Glyndon had just recently come from commanding the 24th Marine Expeditionary Unit in Iraq. "Something is going to give. It's too big for Baal and his ilk to write off cavalierly. The Jaffa are the power base. They're going to have to deal with it before facing the Replicator threat."

O'Neill pondered the predicament. "Question is, do the Jaffa commit to one big fight or go the Viet Cong route?"

"Sir, culturally speaking, it's our assessment that the Jaffa are too proud to go the Tok'ra route. You can't change thousands of years of training overnight."

"Let's just hope they don't get as arrogant as the Tok'ra." O'Neill had a certain dislike of the Tok'ra resistance and some of their methods. He wasn't a fan of how they treated their US allies especially. "Jacob is the exception as always Carter."

"I'm sure he'd appreciate the sentiment sir." Carter missed her father's presence more than ever.

"Jerry, are the advisors having any issues or problems working with the Jaffa?" The Jaffa had departed the Alpha Site because they perceived the Tauri were becoming their new masters, however false the perception.

"None reported, sir. We've been pretty generous with resupply." "Good. Bill, how many teams do we have chopped to this mission? O'Neill directed the question to his J-3, Director of Operations, Air Force Colonel William Henson.

"Sir, four teams are currently on the mission. Mostly Green Berets teaching insurgency tactics."

"Col. Glyndon, you want some more help?"

Glyndon looked like a kid at Christmas. "Hell, yes sir. We've got some use for them."

"Bill, let's rustle up two more immediately and maybe two more if it works out. Can we do it?"

"Yes sir. Also, remember that we're supposed to discuss a mission to Langara." Langara was the home world of Jonas Quinn, a former member of SG-1. The planet had been divided among three feuding nation-states, but had started coming into some form of maturity. The Langarans were requesting that SGC help bring their military establishment up to a better level. The decision was winding its way through the DOD, the State Department and the White House. Good luck.

"Yeah, that decision is coming soon. Okay, thank you gentlemen." The directors got up and left. After they left, O'Neill turned to Carter.

"You get the feeling things are coming to a head? Like a boiling pot waiting to blow?"

"Yes sir, I do."

"Great." 


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

SGC  
Cheyenne Mountain AS, CO

"This meeting should be pretty interesting. Notice how well I can understate the obvious?" This was the best humor O'Neill could muster on a morning that would set the tenor for the future of Stargate Command and everyone associated with it. It wasn't often that he got nervous about anything but then…

"I think it's going to turn out much better than you seem to think." General Hammond strode the familiar corridor with his own thoughts in hand. I hope. "It seems to me that a lot of honest effort has gone into some of these proposals."

"An honest effort from bureaucrats? This ought to be good."

The meeting they were referring to was actually a teleconference between the SGC, White House, Pentagon and the State Department. Also sitting in were the Senate Committees with oversight of the SGC, Intelligence, Foreign Affairs and Armed Services. Issues that had been boiling for some time were to be hashed out and decided upon. Also, a renewed direction for the SGC would be charted. Some had argued in recent months that the SGC was slowly departing from its mission of exploration and technological development. These voices felt that the SGC's military component had developed a case of tunnel vision due to the ongoing conflict with the Goa'uld.

On the other hand, O'Neill and others pointed to the fact that they were at war with the Goa'uld, declared or not. Earth had been directly assaulted on multiple occasions, the last of which had cost the lives of almost 10,000 US Navy personnel. If this wasn't to be the prime concern of the SGC, then why were they in business? Hadn't the US fomented the Jaffa rebellion? O'Neill supported exploration more than most gave him credit for; he just believed in priorities.

They strode into the SGC's new Command & Control Center. Built over the months following Anubis' attack, it contained state-of-the-art communications nodes. It allowed SGC commanders to also communicate off-world to teams through the gate. It also allowed the SGC to speak with Washington, DC and other capitols more smoothly than a simple secure phone line.

Hammond and O'Neill entered the center and took their seats at the head of a long semi-oval conference table. All of the SGC's Directors were seated on either side. Also seated nearby were Daniel and Sam, actually looking somewhat pensive. Four large plasma screen monitors were on the facing wall. The center monitor was currently dedicated to a White House feed. The others were for the respective agencies.

"The President will be on in 30 seconds" a monotone voice said from the White House feed. The wait seemed unbearable to all involved. Then the same voice announced, "Ladies and Gentlemen, the President." Everyone rose. The President appeared on the video monitor and stated, "Please be seated."

"Okay, let me start by saying that it's good to see you all and I know we have a lot to deal with, so let's go. General Hammond?"

"Thank you sir, ladies and gentlemen, the events of the last few months have demonstrated a need to better plan the direction of US policy towards a multitude of issues. Among these are the continuing threat of the Goa'uld, the apparent breakdown of our treaty with the Tok'ra, the Replicator threat and the lack of contact with our Atlantis mission. We also must examine the relationship between our dual missions: exploration and the defense of Earth. What has been assembled for your debate and eventual recommendation are a series of proposals that help refine SGC operations."

"The first proposal to be discussed is the expansion of the State Department's role in off-world diplomacy…

At the same time…

Combat Arms Range  
Peterson Air Force Base, CO

"CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE!"

"MAKE ALL WEAPONS SAFE!"

Sergeant Patrick Joyce had spent hundreds of hours on various weapons ranges during the past few years. But, even then, he always got excited when the opportunity arose to try a new weapon. Today was qualification day with one of the SGC's more popular pieces of equipment, the P-90 rifle. The P-90 was used by many personnel on off-world missions but was not the mandatory weapon. Some preferred the M-4 rifle like Joyce, some others the MP-5 series of sub-machine gun from Heckler & Koch.

Joyce turned to the Navy SEAL standing next to him on the range, Petty Officer First Class Tony DiSpirito. "What do you think of the P-90?"

DiSpirito thought for a second and then spoke. "It's not bad. A high rate of fire, which comes in handy. I've always had a soft spot for the M-4 though. It got me out of a few touchy situations in Iraq."

"It worked for me in Afghanistan pretty well."

"Let's just hope it makes for nice holes in a Jaffa."

"You bet your ass!"

Back at the SGC…

"Mr. President, the universe's idea of American diplomacy can't continue to always be four or eight Special Forces-types armed to the teeth. After a planet is found to be welcoming, further contact should be left to the diplomatic corps with military assistance as needed."

Shockingly, for once O'Neill found himself in agreement with the Secretary of State. It would definitely free up some of his best operators for other missions. This discussion had come to a head due to the recent tragedy arising from an SG-1 mission. SG-1 found themselves embroiled between two rival governments and religious fanatics. The resulting conflict had cost an astronomical amount of lives and had sent shockwaves through those in the know within the United States Government.

The Secretary dropped his biggest proposal on the table. "I would like to see a permanent diplomatic structure assigned to the SGC. It would not usurp military authority but work in concert with General O'Neill's operation. Also, a formal Ambassador should be posted there to represent our government."

O'Neill and Hammond had seen this coming… 


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

SGC  
Cheyenne Mountain AS, CO

Two hours, four topics of discussion and two breaks later, the dialogue turned to one of O'Neill's pet projects, the Rapid Reaction Force (RRF). He was prepared with arguments that he had been trying out on Carter for some time. In fact, he was comfortable with laying his career on the line over this issue if, as he knew it would, help to save the lives of US personnel and their allies.

Hammond started the discussion. "Now if I may, the next item on the agenda is the RRF proposal. Mr. President, both General O'Neill and I feel that this is critical. It has…" The State Department representatives rolled their eyes. They saw the plan as a potential escalation.

The President cut Hammond of and said, "General, you will find that all relevant parties are in agreement on this issue. General Maynard?"

"Thank you sir. General O'Neill, we've looked at this idea and think we've found a suitable means of addressing the issue. How would you like a Ranger battalion?" The Rangers were the US Army's premier infantry formation. There were three battalions dispersed throughout the United States. They maintained a high state of readiness and were trained to fight in any environment. The Rangers were skilled in multiple types of operations and would be the most capable large-formation military unit the Goa'uld had ever encountered.

O'Neill was stunned. Merry Christmas, Jack "Sir, that would fit the bill really well. How would we do it though?"

"We're ready to go ahead with a plan. It calls for the creation of a new unit, the 7th Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment. They would be home based at Peterson. Like a regular Ranger battalion, it would be 660 men strong with three rifle companies and a headquarters company. They would be under the operational control of the SGC, not the Regimental HQ at Fort Benning or JSOC. They would be a standard light infantry unit with their heaviest weapons being mortars and machine guns. They're built for mobility. What do you think?"

All that ran through Jack's head at that moment was Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday! "I like the idea a lot sir. This is exactly what we need to back up the teams."

"Jack, we're also prepared to reinforce the Alpha Site with at least a company-sized element of Marines. The recent struggle with Anubis has convinced us that we're either all in or not."

About freaking time…"

Jack looked over and saw huge grins on the faces of his staff, including Carter. As usual, Daniel was more interested in the diplomatic issues…

SGC  
Cheyenne Mountain AS, CO  
Two months later

"…and in conclusion, let me just say again how proud we are that you have concluded this phase of your training. You will now join a team and begin integrating into SGC operations. Your career from here on out will be marked by exciting challenges, dangerous assignments and the satisfaction of knowing you're performing the most important mission in the world. Again, congratulations. Dismissed." O'Neill thought immediately that it was one of the better speeches he ever gave.

Joyce stood and turned to his fellow classmate, Petty Officer DiSpirito. "Congratulations, Tony." They shook hands in the knowledge that it would get a lot harder from here on out.

"You too Pat. Do you know what team you're going to?" DiSpirito was slated for SG-12.

"I'm going to SG-19. We'll see how it goes." Joyce harbored no illusions that it would be easy. The last three months had been extremely challenging. The training had been some of the most intense he had ever encountered and that was coming from a graduate of Ranger School. The emotions that he hid all too well were not that of fear, although that certainly occupied its own little space. Instead, it was more a feeling of uncertainty that was both exciting and anxiety-inducing.

While Joyce never really talked-the talk, as the saying went, he knew from his experience that he did pretty well at walking-the-walk. But it only takes one idiot with one bullet to ruin your day and he knew there was little you could do to prevent it except following training and instincts.

As Joyce was celebrating with his classmates, a stern looking naval officer came walking up to him. On his uniform he wore the badge of a SEAL and looked like one as well.

"Congratulations Sergeant Joyce, I'm Commander John Rexford, US Navy. I'm the team leader for SG-19. I just wanted to welcome you aboard."

"Thank you sir. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm really anxious to get started." Joyce had met his share of officers during his time in the military. Some were better than others. He immediately began sizing-up Cdr. Rexford. Rexford looked the part, about six feet tall and built like a tight end. Joyce would have bet good money this guy played college football somewhere. Rexford seemed straight away to have an air of quiet intelligence about him. That gave Joyce a good feeling to start. Whether he used it or not was another matter.

"We'll be spinning up in mission-prep for about a month. Then we're kicking off a critical assistance mission to a potential ally. This mission has been under consideration for a while. I think you'll like it."

"Sounds great sir." We'll see about that. They said the same thing to us in Kabul…

"It's a planet called Langara…"

One week later…

The SGC Briefing Room was pretty full on this morning. The topic of discussion was to be a long-term FID mission, FID meaning Foreign Internal Defense. The Langarans were hoping to cultivate better relations with Earth and the US Government. Their last few entanglements had not gone well however, and there remained a fair amount of mistrust on the US side. O'Neill's exact words in discussing the situation with the Commanding General of US Space Command had started with the phrase "Screw those asses…" General Robichard, knowing the Langaran's story, agreed, "I wouldn't give them the design to a powered can opener…"

The Langarans had appealed directly to the State Department and had used Jonas Quinn's good relationship to try and build a bridge of trust. Helping the matter was the fact that a new vane of Naquadah had been discovered. This turned even Carter to back a rapprochement.

This was the atmosphere as O'Neill met with the teams assigned to the mission as well as the State Department's official representative to Langara, Ambassador Geoffrey Howe. Joining Howe was Lieutenant Colonel Drew Steinbach, an Army artillery officer who would be acting as Defense Attaché, and coordinating the SG team's movements. SG's 19 & 29 would be in the field, instructing Langaran officers and men. If it went well, assistance would be given in other areas, such as the economic and industrial fields.

O'Neill was his usual self. "Mr. Ambassador, I must reiterate that trusting the Langarans will need time. They've shown a propensity for looking out only for Number 1 and we're not Number 1."

"I appreciate the concern General, and I can promise you that at the first sign of trouble, we'll pull the mission and come home. And before you say it, I know that all tactical decisions are in Lt. Col. Steinbach and Commander Rexford's hands." A career in Foreign Service had shown Howe the way to calm people down. O'Neill was nothing compared to an angry Colombian official, Howe thought.

Carter spoke up with some urgency, "Ambassador, the Naquadah is the key item that we can always need more of. I hope you can negotiate a trade for that." The larger the amount of the valuable mineral the US could procure the better.

"Colonel Carter, I think we'll be able to come to a very advantageous arrangement."

O'Neill piped up, "We'll just have to see who gets the advantageous side of the deal." 


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Stargate Command  
Cheyenne Mountain Air Station, CO

"Where do they think you're going?" The question happened to be the most frequently used query when discussing one's family at the SGC. In this case, the person doing the asking was Dr. Thomas Henchard, the resident scientist assigned to SG-19. Henchard had been recruited to the SGC from the University of Southern California three years earlier. A tall, patrician 42- year old, Henchard was a historian and linguist by training. He would be meeting with various Langaran educators and guest-lecturing at some schools.

"They think I'm going back to Afghanistan." The look on Sergeant Patrick Joyce's face displayed quite accurately how he felt about that little fib. Joyce was actually close to his parents. His father, an assistant high school principal, and his mother, a nurse, were pretty used to Patrick's post-9/11 travels. It didn't make them feel better, but they lived with it. Joyce had just spent the last two weeks back in Massachusetts soaking up the quiet home life before departing for Langara. He had driven the back roads and realized how much he missed a normal life. The new challenges at the SGC were worth it for him though.

"At least it's nicer where we're going. It's somewhat like 1950's America without the Cold War paranoia, at least since the three countries united." The nation of Langara had come about through the uniting of three competing nation-states: the Kelownans, who had controlled the Stargate, the Terranians and the Andarrie. The feud between the three had reverted to open war, which had caused the outnumbered Kelownans to use a Naquadria Bomb. Needless to say, this had caused a definitive shock to all three nations. The revulsion had been palpable and overwhelming. Peace talks had commenced when the planet was visited by something even worse: Anubis. The resulting conflict and narrow escape had pushed peace talks further. Now the nations were joined in a loose confederation and looking to move forward. Hence the desire to ally with Earth and the United States Government.

"Hopefully, they're more gracious than they were last time we dealt with them." This hope was voiced by the third member of SG-19, Major Steve McGann. McGann was an Air Force intelligence officer who had been assigned to the SGC five years earlier. He had extensive experience in off-world operations. He and Joyce would be looking at the Langaran military's training and equipment. "They didn't exactly make a great impression." The conduct of the three groups during the Naquadria crisis had been nothing short of childish. It had gotten so bad that General Hammond and the Pentagon had kicked them off the planet.

Commander Rexford entered the room and got down to business quickly, which was his style. "Okay, where do we stand? Steve?"

"Sir, all our equipment and supplies are catalogued and loaded. We're fully cleared by Medical. Colonel Steinbach says re-supply is coordinated and the Langaran familiarization items are ready as well." McGann was referring to US military equipment that would be shown to the Langarans for possible trade or sale. They would also be displaying civilian items. A follow-up team of scientists would come to work with the Langarans should the mission be successful. SG-19 and its attached personnel were looking at 3-6 months on Langara. All Joyce hoped was that they had a social life.

"Okay, the Langaran rep arrives here tomorrow morning. We depart in the afternoon. I want final checks on all gear tonight. Get some rest and I'll see you in the morning."

Meanwhile…

Interesting was the only word Jack O'Neill could come up with to describe his relationship with the new State Department representative, Ambassador Kathleen Mulhern. Mulhern's job was to act as the SGC's diplomatic face to the representatives of other cultures and races. While not the anti-military type per-se, she was a result of the State Department's peace-at-almost-all-costs crowd. She was also a product of Yale and the Fletcher School and had worked on various international commissions.

"General, I don't see what possible arms sales to the Langarans would accomplish. They're 50 years behind us on the technological front. Better that we establish friendly relationships with them and leave them to their own devices. Look at how arming the Afghans during the 1980's worked out."

Kill me now… Ambassador, if we're going to encourage the Langarans to peacefully trade and explore in this galaxy, they're going to need the means to defend themselves from hostiles, especially the Goa'uld. I remind you that Anubis just recently occupied their capitol and it was only through dramatic effort that he was deterred. I'm not the Lagarans biggest cheerleader by any means, but we also need that Naquada." Oh yeah, and kiss my ass…

Daniel spoke up to preserve the peace, as he was one to do. "Ambassador, I have to agree with Jack on this. I'm the last person who would be a fan of the Langarans but we should offer them the means to defend themselves. At the same time, we can work to strengthen their new government. All of our dealings should point towards that goal."

"I hope your right Dr. Jackson. I think it may come back to bite us. The Naquada isn't worth it."

Kill me now…

The following morning O'Neill found himself standing in the very familiar surroundings of the Embarkation Room in his dress uniform. A red carpet was laid on the ramp leading from the Stargate and a US Air Force Honor Guard was arrayed on both sides. The purpose of all this effort was the arrival of the delegation from Langara. Two Langaran military officers would be visiting Earth to be familiarized with US military training and standards. Also, a civilian delegation would be traveling the planet to learn about the Earth and its cultures. Standing in the room with O'Neill were Ambassadors Mulhern and Howe, Lt. Col. Carter, Daniel and various other SGC personnel. Soon, the gate activated and MSgt Harriman announced, "Sir, IDC received. It's the Langarans."

"Open the iris."

The iris opened and through the wormhole walked approximately 12 Langaran representatives. The look on their faces was priceless, Jack thought.

"On behalf of the President of the United States of America, welcome to Earth. I am Brigadier General Jack O'Neill, commanding officer of Stargate Command. Allow me to introduce Ambassador Kathleen Mulhern of our Department of State…" O'Neill made all the proper introductions. The lead member of the Langaran delegation was a Minister Uri Vossla, a Kelownan by birth.

Minister Vossla expressed the usual thanks and wishes on behalf of his government. He then introduced the members of his delegation. For all of them, it was their first off-world experience. Their facial expressions ranged from neutral to outright fascination. It was actually humorous to partake. After the formal introductions, O'Neill escorted the Langarans to a meeting room for the first in a series of discussions. On the way, O'Neill couldn't help but think:

This had better work out…

A secure military facility  
Langara

For Joyce, the feeling of stepping through a Stargate would never become routine. He had just too much intellectual curiosity to let it become some form of habitual occurrence. Maybe for some of the old-timers in the program, like Gen. O'Neill or Lt. Col. Carter, he thought. But when it's your first mission, it's anything but routine. Joyce and the fellow members of his delegation stepped through the gate and found themselves in a military-style bunker that was modeled somewhat on the SGC.

Awaiting them was a delegation of Langaran government and military types. He suddenly realized how the Langarans must have felt. The deja-vu would have been funny if he wasn't so conscious of where he was.

"Welcome to Langara. I am Commander Sy Varan…" 


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

A Langaran Military Facility

When two cultures that are completely alien to one another meet, traditionally some form of conflict arises. Joyce's education and experience told him that. That potential conflict could take many forms, whether religious, societal, economic or out of absolute self-interest. During their training, potential SG team operators were required to read accounts of the early European experiences in the New World. The resulting conflicts, due to many different factors, weighed on the minds of the policy makers who helped guide SGC operations. Mistakes had been made during other missions and if the US military did anything right, it was learning from missteps. Earth and the United States needed allies and friends, even the Langarans.

Since arriving three days earlier, SG-19 and SG-29 had been spending their days receiving classroom briefings from Langaran officers. Like all military briefings, there was a certain amount of boredom involved. But the Langarans were friendly and very accommodating. The briefings covered a basic overview of Langaran military structure and training. The Langarans seemed quite intent on proving to their Tau'ri guests that they were capable and professional, no matter how technologically behind they were. Joyce sensed a sort of wounded pride among the Langarans, along with residual distrust among the three former rival nations. Ambassador Howe would have his hands full with that issue. Joyce didn't envy him.

During the evening hours, the visitors from Earth were guests at receptions, one of which was hosted by the Joint Ruling Council, Langara's highest political body. They were peppered with questions about life on Earth and the status of other cultures in the universe. Joyce actually surprised himself by enjoying the attention and answering the many questions. He was not a patient person by nature, but put his best foot forward. He found it hilarious trying to explain baseball and his devotion to his beloved Boston Red Sox to a Langaran officer named Major Kel Markam, a Terranian by birth..

"So, you say that the followers of this club are called "Red Sox Nation"? Is it religious or political in nature?" Major Markam appeared slightly confused.

It took a fair amount of self-control for Joyce not to laugh, but he managed. "No it's more fraternal in nature. Sports for many humans act as a pleasant and healthy diversion from the stress of daily life. We find it can also teach many valuable lessons to our youth."

"Interesting. What do you think of us so far, Sergeant?"

Joyce hadn't prepared himself for such a direct question so soon in the mission, but managed an answer. "Sir, you seem to have an interesting culture. I'm very excited to explore it further." Let's hope that sounded good to him…

"I think with time, Sergeant, Earth will find us valuable allies and friends."

"I have little doubt that that will be the case. Hopefully, you'll get to see Earth in the near future. I think you'd like it very much." I'm getting better at this cocktail party banter…

SGC  
Cheyenne Mountain AS, CO

Colonel Glyndon loved his job, but it could be a monumental headache. This was turning into one of those mornings. Being Director of Intelligence at the SGC was important, never more so than now. Glyndon looked at the reports from his teams working with the Jaffa and felt like reaching for Maalox. The SGC had eight teams currently operating with the Jaffa Rebels. They were having some success. The Jaffa were some of the best soldiers Glyndon had ever encountered, but they were a prideful lot. In this case, some Jaffa were going on a raid in Goa'uld-occupied areas. They had goaded an Army Special Forces operator from one of the SG teams into going along. The raid got botched and the SF troop had taken a full staff shot to the head, instantly decapitating him.

This is goddamn bullshit… They expected to lose people, but not on botched raids.

Someone had to tell the General. "I'm not going alone," he muttered. It wasn't that he was afraid of giving bad news to superiors but this also belonged to the Operations Section. Glyndon picked up his phone and called the Director of Operations, Colonel Henson.

"Bill, its Jerry. Did you see the report about Captain Bellucci? Good, you want to go see the Boss? Okay, I'll meet you there."

15 minutes later…

"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME! I DON"T KNOW WHO WAS DUMMER, THE JAFFA OR BELLUCCI!

"Yes sir." This was the first time Glyndon had seen the ugly Jack O'Neill. It wasn't the highlight of his day so far.

O'Neill looked directly to Col. Henson. "Bill, get word to our guys that they're not to go on raids without your permission, got that?"

"Yes sir."

O'Neill turned to Teal'c and looked him straight in the eye. "T, go to your folks and dial them down. If they feel like testing someone's manhood, they can try me. I'll pull those teams so quick, it'll make their heads spins."

"Do not worry O'Neill, I will speak with them."

What a way to run a railroad…

Langara

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the M-16A2 rifle. It is a gas-operated weapon that discharges a 5.56 millimeter round. Its maximum effective range is 800 meters…" Joyce and his fellow members of SG-19 had begun the familiarization course. The Langarans proved to be quick studies. Joyce was impressed with their ability to quickly absorb knowledge and to ask plenty of questions.

As part of their familiarization, Joyce and his teammates were exposed to Langaran weaponry. What he saw was ok but not exactly overwhelming. The standard Langaran rifle was similar to a World War I-era Springfield 1903 bolt action type. A good rifle in its day but not now, against waves of fired-up Jaffa infantry or a Kull warrior. The government was feeling out the US about a technology transfer agreement. But that was above Joyce's pay grade. All he knew was that a rifle had one purpose. Apparently, so did the Langarans.

"Sergeant, how effective is it against a Jaffa?" The officer asking had fought Anubis' soldiers during their abortive invasion.

"It will penetrate their light armor, and of course a head shot will also do the deed."

The Langarans simply nodded. Joyce recognized the look. They wanted a rematch on their terms.

Oh boy…

An unnamed, far off world

The Tok'ra agent knew he had to get the information to his superiors. He had been undercover for long enough to gather critical data. He normally wouldn't have risked his position or his life for a non-Tok'ra purpose, but he believed in the alliance with the Tau'ri. This currently put him among the minority in his ranks. Many felt the Tau'ri were too impetuous and above all else, dangerous. He couldn't count how often he heard others speak of the Tau'ri as simpleton vassals.

Now he was running for his life. The information he carried was more important than the petty differences between Tok'ra, Tau'ri and Rebel Jaffa. Quite simply, it could be the end of them all… 


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Stargate Command  
Cheyenne Mountain Air Station, CO

Many of Jack O'Neill's superiors, contemporaries and even subordinates did not consider him a philosopher or deep thinker by nature. This was mainly the result of years spent downplaying his own intelligence while gaining a reputation as a gut-instinct type of soldier. Those who spent a fair amount of time with him however, discovered that behind the shoot-from-the-hip attitude and self-deprecation, laid a sweeping intellect and broad curiosity bordering on the scientific. It was in this vein that O'Neill found himself mired in thought this morning. Above all else, his deep thoughts were not good ones.

What consumed his thoughts on a Friday morning were the SGC and its future, especially in terms of the rest of the world. Change was sweeping in rapidly. Some of the change was good, such as the Jaffa and their rebellion. Much of it wasn't, such as the missing Atlantis expedition, Daniel being MIA and the increased scrutiny of SGC operations. O'Neill had been trying to comfort himself by thinking about the inevitability of change, but things were becoming too large to control.

How the hell did Hammond do this job for so long?

The politics was killing him. Everyone "in the know" seemed to want a piece of the action. O'Neill was no fool. He was aware of how politics had been part of the SGC since the beginning of the program. Various dealings with Senator Kinsey and others had given him enough of an education in that arena. Now others were climbing up to the trough. The British, French and Germans all wanted teams operating out of the SGC. They also wanted in on Prometheus and the F-302 program. Even America's allies were beginning to chafe at the advantage the Stargate was providing. As it was, they would need the allies just to continue the program. The SGC was becoming a victim of its own success. It was becoming too big and too expensive for the United States to handle alone.

The Prometheus' sister ships alone would each cost billions of dollars. F-302 fighters were not exactly Wal-Mart specials either. The costs were staggering and so was the manpower required. With the war in Iraq continuing, recruitment for the SGC was becoming problematic. Special Operations troops were in heavy demand.

At least some things were going right, O'Neill thought. The Rapid Reaction Force was coming along nicely. Ambassador Mulhern, the new State Department representative, was taking on much of the diplomatic grunt work that Hammond had traditionally handled. And she was behaving herself. O'Neill flashed a rueful grin at the thought.

A State Department weenie answering to me. Nice!

As if on cue, Ambassador Mulhern entered Jack's office and stood before him with a half-smile on her face.  
"Grab a seat, Ambassador. You look like you just won an NCAA basketball office pool."

"Fat chance of that happening Jack. But I do bring some good news."

"Shoot."

"The Langaran delegation finished their tour of Washington DC and are in New York. According to our people, they're stunned. Floored. Our people think they'll offer us an exclusive deal on the naquadah."

"Well, that's good. It's about time we got some good news from those folks. Have your people heard what they'll want in return?"

"Not yet, but our current guess, if it's worth anything, is deals for licensing to produce certain pharmaceuticals, computers and small weapons systems. Easier for them to get the license to produce what they need than buy it directly from us. The Japanese did the same thing when they were building their economy after World War Two. When will you hear from Howe and the teams?"

"They're scheduled to dial in later today."

"I'm really interested in seeing how this goes. It's going much better on our end than I would have thought." Mulhern actually seemed buoyant about the Langarans, which surprised O'Neill.

"I thought you were skeptical of this, Ambassador."

"Let's just say that I'm cautiously optimistic. Pending Howe's report, though."

"Of course."

A Langaran Military Facility

Joyce had heard many a tale regarding Jonas Quinn's stay at the SGC. It had started with him involved in the apparent death of Dr. Jackson and his subsequent defection to the US with an amount of naquadria. Joyce had worked on SG-1 for about a year until he was practically begged back home. During his time with SG-1, he had been captured and tortured by two separate Goa'ulds, Anubis and Nirrti. Not bad for a single year, Joyce thought.

"So, how are things back on Earth?" Quinn still held a warm spot for his almost-adopted home. He missed a lot of the small things, like the Weather Channel.

"Not bad. You know about the war in Iraq?" No need to sugarcoat things.

"Yeah, O'Neill told me last time we talked. Kind of figured that one was coming at some point. Did you go?"

"Yes, I was with the 101st Airborne during the invasion. The actual invasion wasn't too bad. It's the occupation that's been the problem."

'Yeah, they usually are."

Quinn and Joyce were sitting in what passed for an Officer's Club. It was the end of the duty day and everyone was unwinding. Commander Rexford was at the bar making conversation with a couple of Langaran officers. The mission so far had gone exceedingly well. The Langarans and the personnel from Earth were getting along fine Joyce felt spoiled with this mission. He knew they all couldn't be this easy. It had so far been a very 9-5 existence. Nothing too strenuous. Unless you counted what passed for alcohol here, Joyce thought. The stuff could knock you out. Ambassador Howe was in the capitol and would be arriving soon to make contact with the SGC.

Jonas looked over at Joyce. "How do you like it so far?"

"I love it here. You're military has treated us really well. I also liked visiting the capitol. The architecture was nice." Joyce and the rest of SG-19 along with SG-29 had visited the capitol city the previous day for a series of tours and receptions. The hospitality was overwhelming. Joyce could see what was going on. The Langarans were desperate to get into Earth's good graces. Joyce had seen a fair amount of ass-kissing in his time. But he understood why they were doing it.

Tomorrow, they would begin working in the field with the Langaran Army to understand how they operated. Joyce expected them to try and show off a little. They would want to impress the teams.

SGC  
Command and Control Center  
Cheyenne Mountain AS, CO

At the appropriate time, the Stargate roared to life with the prospect of an incoming wormhole. O'Neill and Mulhern were expecting it. They heard MSgt Harriman's voice intone, "Sir, we're receiving a signal. It's Ambassador Howe."

O'Neil looked to the plasma screen and saw the Ambassador's image come up. "Ambassador, It's General O'Neill. Ambassador Mulhern is here with me. How are things going?"

"Fine, General. Actually, better than fine. The Langarans have treated us really well. They are very interested in some form of trade agreement, pending the return of their delegation from Earth. They have forwarded a list of products that they would like to study further. I'll be transmitting it momentarily." Mulhern spoke up. "Geoff, we're told the Langaran delegation is now in New York and is greatly impressed. We think this might work out after all."

"That's good to hear. Also General, be advised the Langarans are looking for gate addresses. They want to start their own SG teams."

Oh boy…

A secret Tok'ra facility

"Someone must warn them." Jacob was insistent on this point.

"It isn't our problem. We cannot risk drawing attention to ourselves at this moment in time." What's one backward race compared to our struggle…

"At least allow me to contact Earth. They have some relations with these people. If we espouse to be part of a greater good in this galaxy, then we should act like it!" The final challenge of the statement was issued not by Jacob but by Selmak.

"Your continued fondness for the Tau'ri will be your downfall. But if you must, contact them. But do not involve us in this! This Langara is not our problem…" 


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Stargate Command  
Cheyenne Mountain Air Station, CO

Knowledge of the Stargate and involvement in the program had different effects on people. Some would have difficulty accepting the existence of alien life. For others, the knowledge disturbed closely held religious convictions. Many took it all in stride. Numerous psychologists had been brought in to study the effects of the SGC's mission on personnel working there. Typical of any group of psychologists, they couldn't settle on a definitive conclusion. Many just threw they're arms up in apparent frustration.

On the flip side, you had the reaction of Lieutenant Colonel Terrence "Terry" McNulty, US Army. Lt. Col. McNulty was one of the most respected infantry officers in the Army. A graduate of North Carolina State and its ROTC program, McNulty had been born without the particular gene for fear. He was not that physically imposing, standing six feet tall and weighing 190 when soaking wet. The only fat on him was last night's cheeseburger. He had excelled at every level of command and had attended nearly every infantry-related school offered. On the left breast of his BDU's, he wore the Combat Infantryman's Badge, Airborne and Air-Assault wings and the Pathfinder Badge. His swagger was not that of arrogance, but of god-like self-confidence born out of thousands of hours of training and actual combat experience. McNulty had served in Somalia, had helped chase wanted war criminals in Bosnia and had recently worked with the task force that had pulled Saddam Hussein out of his rabbit hole. McNulty was smart enough to know that he didn't know everything, but as he joked, he was working on that deficiency.

Lt. Col. McNulty's new job was going to test his confidence. He was the first commander of the newly formed 7th Ranger Battalion. Simply put, McNulty and his men were to be the SGC's, and by extension Earth's, big stick. This was Jack O'Neill's coveted Rapid Reaction Force. Anytime the Goa'uld or any other alien race felt like picking a fight, McNulty and his men were going to exact some punishment. Every one of McNulty's men was handpicked, from the company commanders to the youngest riflemen. In all, 660 of the Army's best soldiers were training at nearby Peterson Air Force Base.

McNulty's reaction to learning of the Stargate, alien life and all the other fun things that went along with it had been nothing like what Brigadier General Jack O'Neill was used to. Usually, those learning of the program for the first time reacted with some sort of palpable shock. That "meaning of life stuff", as O'Neill phrased it. Some manner of "oh shit". Not McNulty. Lt. Col. McNulty turned to O'Neill and without missing a beat commented on things being pretty serious if they needed the Rangers.

"You have no idea" is all the sarcasm O'Neill could muster.

Now, months later, McNulty could only shake his head at the hand that fortune had tossed his way. He found himself working with of all things, the Air Force. McNulty had always had a somewhat suspicious attitude towards the Army's sister service. With the exception of their special operations troops, with whom he had worked for years, he considered the rest of the United States Air Force to be no better than a highly armed DHL or UPS. Great for getting you there but not for helping to kick in the door. Now, they were commanding the United States' defense against various bad guys impersonating gods.

Great…

McNulty entered the conference room for the weekly staff meeting. He had actually started to develop a good relationship with General O'Neill. The first few weeks had been somewhat tentative as they tried to understand each other. They quickly found, however, that they both shared similar outlooks on certain issues. Such as a rampant dislike for the Russians…

"General, if we are to be partners, I would think the United States would welcome the assistance of the Russian Army." One thing about Colonel Chekov, McNulty thought, he could probably sell ice to Eskimos.

Chekov continued his sales pitch. "A platoon of our airborne soldiers attached to Colonel McNulty's force at Peterson would not be a great intrusion. I believe it would foster good will between our militaries and enhance our ability to work together."

O'Neill looked like he'd rather be tortured by Baal at this exact moment. "Colonel McNulty's force is trained to the same rigid standards. They operate as a seamless machine. It would take time to integrate them into the battalion. And time is not something we have a lot of at the moment. Ask our Atlantis expedition." O'Neill loved tweaking Chekov, even though he had high respect for the Russian.

"General, you should know that my government finds this unacceptable. President Mikhailov will be discussing this issue with President Hayes."

"I wouldn't expect less."

Meanwhile, in a galaxy not so far away…

Langara

"We teach our young soldiers the basic concepts of cover and concealment. Cover will stop bullets. Concealment will allow you to be unseen by you enemy. Movement and coordination as a team are essential." Sergeant Patrick Joyce, US Army had been at this for a while. This was his second group of soldiers from the Langaran Army that day. Joyce was beginning to find the teaching monotonous, but not the students. He loved working with the Langarans. They had become so desperate to catch up in the interstellar neighborhood that they actually had stopped arguing with one another and got to work. The officers of the new Langaran Army were absolutely dedicated to preventing a replay of Anubis's attack. This dedication bordered on the fanatical. Joyce couldn't blame them. He saw the look in their eyes. And if Anubis showed up over Boston, wouldn't I be the same  
At the next break in training Joyce was approached by Major Markam, who had pretty much become his defacto shadow since arriving. Joyce wasn't sure if this was intentional or if he was just trying to be friendly. Joyce had played the Who's the Spook? game before. He really didn't feel like playing it now. But he did like Markam. He also provided an easily accessible insight into the Langaran's thinking.

"Sergeant Joyce, will you be joining us tonight?" Markam had talked to Joyce about doing the Langaran version of a pub crawl in the capital. Joyce never turned down a free drink.

"Roger that sir. I believe Commander Rexford will be coming as well."

"Great."

Just what I need, more hospitality. Is it too late for Afghanistan?

SGC  
Cheyenne Mountain AS, CO

The Stargate roared to life just as it had done thousands of times in the past. The Air Force personnel and civilian contractors performed as they always did. Each activation brought with it the sense of impending news. Ninety nine out of a hundred times it was for rather mundane reasons. A trade mission or a recon team was returning as scheduled. It was that other one that usually set in motion the great events that defined the SGC's history and the fortunes of its men and women. They sometimes came at the least expected time or they could have great buildup. Little did anyone know that 1 out of 100 moments was making its random appearance.

"Unscheduled off-world activation!" The announcement brought a sense of nervous anticipation to O'Neill and Lt. Col. Samantha Carter. They had heard it plenty of times, but it never got old.

They raced to the control room. "What have we got?" O'Neill's question was automatic.

"Sir, we're receiving the IDC now… It's the Tok'ra."

About time they called… "Open the iris!" 

The iris opened with its great metal sound, a sound that sent chills through SGC personnel. Through the wormhole appeared Jacob Carter, the former Air Force general turned alien intelligence agent. Everyone who knew Carter knew he was bringing news or on the universe's longest vacation trip. Most likely the former.

O'Neill and Sam Carter arrived in the embarkation room to greet Jacob. They were glad to see him even as they new that his arrival portended imminent issues.

"Jacob! The Tok'ra lives! Just when we thought you guys might have packed up and left the neighborhood. I hope you're here to visit Sam." O'Neill loved throwing out digs at the Tok'ra.

Jacob hugged Sam and shook O'Neill's hand. The look in his eyes said it all. All was not well out on the interstellar block. Oh God, how bad are things now…

"Jack, Sam, it's not good. War is coming…"

TO BE CONTINUED 


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SGC

Cheyenne Mountain Air Station, CO.

"You've got to be kidding me, right? Just when we thought the neighborhood might go quiet for a while." Jack O'Neill was not amused by the news that Jacob Carter was delivering. In O'Neill's world-view, every time the Tok'ra brought fresh intelligence, it was of the worlds-about-to-end variety. He was waiting for the moment they brought something other than bad news or a smug attitude.

"Jack, I know you wouldn't like it but it's the truth. The High Council wants nothing to do with this. They think it would be bad precedent for them to go around warning every race who might be in the Goa'uld's crosshairs."

"How nice. At some point that thinking is going to come back to bite them in the ass. Hopefully, we're not there when it does." O'Neill had had enough of the Tok'ra's political bullshit.

Seated around the conference table in the SGC's Command and Control Center was all of the top minds and directors of the SGC. Ambassador Mulhern, O'Neill, Colonel's Carter, Henson, Glyndon, McNulty and Chekov, Daniel Jackson and Teal'c all looked ashen. A single thought ran through all at the table: _Can we ever catch a break?_ Many a person at the SGC in recent months had taken to commenting, however quietly, that working for an organization that seemed perpetually under siege was getting old and definitely getting tiring. Human beings were not meant to deal with such continual worry. But here they were, with another fire to put out and only a garden hose to fight it with. But as Lt. Col. McNulty would almost assuredly point out, the troops at the SGC were one hell of a garden hose.

The intelligence that Jacob had brought from an uncooperative Tok'ra High Council was not good. A minor Goa'uld by the name of Nimar had assembled a loyal group of 5,000-10,000 Jaffa and was attempting to become a player on the interstellar stage. In some ways it was laughable. It was the Goa'uld equivalent of Iceland trying to compete with the United States, Russia and China. But no one every accused a Goa'uld of practical, reasoned decision making. Normally, this type of power play would be shrugged at. But what had caught the attention of the Tok'ra's agents was the fact that Nimar had caught wind of the recent discoveries of naquadah on a certain planet. Nimar had also discovered that the planet in question was somewhat technologically backward and had already suffered an attack by Anubis. This made the planet an even more attractive target.

The name of the planet was Langara. Which, oh by the way, had two SG teams and a US Ambassador on it at the moment?

"The question is, what do we do about it?" O'Neill wasn't looking forward to briefing the President and Joint Chiefs on this one.

All eyes turned to one end of the table where Lt. Col. McNulty sat quietly. McNulty noticed the looks and smiled thinly. "Are you asking if the 7th is ready for a major confrontation? The answer is truthfully, probably not. We're still spinning up and we don't have our complete T, O&E yet. We can pull an extraction of Ambassador Howe and the teams along with various Langaran dignitaries. We could do a holding mission at their gate. But we're not in a position to help them repel an all-out invasion. But we're Rangers; we'll carry out whatever mission needs to be done."

O'Neill knew McNulty was speaking truthfully. The battalion had only been fully manned for a short period and was still going through SGC-related training. He turned to McNulty and Henson. "I want multiple operational concepts drafted for all scenarios, everything from extraction to defense. Carter, you, Daniel and Teal'c will head to Langara along with SG's 3, 5 and 11. Brief our people and the Langaran leadership. Don't commit us to anything until you hear from me."

"Yes sir."

_A secure Langaran military facility_

Lieutenant Colonel Drew Steinbach was loving life. Few people within the United States military loved their job the way he currently did. Steinbach had a rare gift for diplomacy. Born and raised in St. Louis, Missouri, he had always been the peacemaker in the family. A West Point graduate, he had chosen artillery as his branch assignment upon graduation. After tours with the 2nd Infantry Division in Korea and the 4th Infantry at Ft. Hood, Texas, he had received what would be his hallmark job as Assistant Defense Attaché in Prague. His landmark work in helping the Czech Republic's army integrate into NATO would draw the attention of the SGC. This was Steinbach's second off-world assignment. Steinbach had become known within the insular world of the SGC as an officer who could get deals done.

Steinbach's current deal making involved convincing the Langaran's to buy US-made weapons systems. He didn't think of himself as a salesman by nature but that was what the job had thrown in front of him. He was in his office in area set aside for the US delegation when he saw the approaching figure of Commander Sy Varan, the senior officer at Langara's Stargate program.

"Commander Varan, what can I do for you?"

"Colonel, you must come quickly. Others have arrived from your planet with news."

Ten minutes later, Steinbach arrived to find Lt. Col. Samantha Carter waiting along with three SG teams. He knew immediately that something was amiss. He knew SG-1 didn't go anywhere unless there was a problem.

"Colonel Carter, what's the problem?"

"We need to meet with Ambassador Howe and the Joint Ruling Council; a small-time System Lord is moving to occupy Langara."

Steinbach suddenly didn't love his job as much…

_Meanwhile…_

Sergeant Patrick Joyce was sitting in a classroom with the rest of SG-19. They were reviewing the results of their latest training sessions for Langaran troops. Commander Rexford was so impressed with the results so far that he planned on submitting a proposal to allow some Langarans to return to Earth for more training. Rexford had operated on numerous FID missions since becoming a SEAL, but he thought this had been the most successful so far. Rexford and his men were lost in their discussion when a Langaran officer came running over. Rexford knew immediately that it wasn't good news.

"Sir, you and your people must come with me. You are needed in the capitol now!"

Sergeant Patrick Joyce knew almost instantaneously that fate was about to slap him hard.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

SGC

Cheyenne Mountain Air Station, CO.

It was an interesting quirk when you thought about it, O'Neill mused. He had visited dozens of worlds in his time with the SGC. During those visits, he had met and negotiated with world leaders of every size, shape and persuasion. Some had been better than others, but they were leaders none the same. Once you developed a gut feeling for their personality, you could learn to stroke egos and gain the upper hand. He had negotiated treaties, arrangements, peace accords and a multitude of similar agreements. He was completely at ease going to an unfamiliar planet and politely asking a form of "take me to your leader" without breaking into laughter. He was not easily cowed nor did he lack the intellect for delicate negotiation. If anything, his sometimes-withering skepticism helped him look past the carefully constructed facades and get to the root of the issues.

However, there was still one leader who made his knees buckle when forced to appear before him: the President of the United States. It was one thing when it's someone else's leader. When it's your Commander in Chief, it's something else entirely. O'Neill had developed a comfortable rapport with President Hayes. In his job, you had to or you might lose the confidence of the President and his advisors. Hayes had developed an appreciation for Jack O'Neill's sometimes shoot-from-the-hip style. George Hammond had been a big help in this regard. Hammond was not only an old acquaintance of the President's, but had the extensive experience he had built during his time commanding the SGC. Hammond had counseled O'Neill especially on how to present his arguments in a way that would get civilian leadership to agree with him. Like many things in life, it was as much art as science.

It was with this in mind that O'Neill found himself and his staff sitting in the Command & Control Center. He had already given an initial briefing of the situation on Langara to General Maynard. Now, they would be presenting options to the President and the entire Joint Chiefs of Staff. Ultimately, the decision sat with the President, but various people, from the Joint Chiefs to the National Security Advisor to Lieutenant General Hammond, were all going to throw their opinions into the ring. _This is going to be an interesting_ _one_ was all O'Neill could think at the moment.

Before long, President Hayes appeared on the large teleconference screen along with his advisors from the Situation Room at the White House. Hayes actually looked upbeat today, O'Neill thought. That was about to change.

"Good morning, Jack. General Maynard tells me we've got a situation. What are we looking at?"

"Good morning sir. We have a serious situation with a potential ally. As you know, we've had an ambassador and two SG teams on the planet Langara. Their mission has been to cultivate good relations and if possible, negotiate a trade deal for mining rights. The Langarans have recently discovered additional high quality deposits of naquadah.

"Yeah, I saw the initial report from Ambassador Howe. I thought it was going well?"

"It has been sir. The Langarans are not the problem, per se. We have just within the last 18 hours received disturbing intelligence from the Tok'ra. With your permission, I'd like our J-2, Chief of Intelligence, Colonel Jeremiah Glyndon, to brief you on the specifics of what we've learned from the Tok'ra."

"Ok."

Colonel Glyndon turned to the screen. "Mr. President, the Tok'ra have relayed to us the latest intelligence on a minor Goa'uld by the name of Nimar…" Glyndon then went on for about five minutes relating Nimar's plans and the strength of his forces. It seemed Nimar only had two mother ships and about 7,500 loyal Jaffa. But with his advanced technology, he could overwhelm Langaran defenses, even with his small numbers. "Mr. President, we'll be receiving more up-to-date information from the Tok'ra as they get it, but the basic situation will not change."

"Thank you Colonel. Okay Jack, what are you proposing?"

"Mr. President, we have a couple of options at our disposal. One is that we recall the ambassador and the teams and leave the Langarans to defend themselves. They do have numbers but our assessment is that ultimately they would fall to Nimar and his forces. Second, we could have Lieutenant Colonel McNulty take some of his force to Langara. Their mission would be to secure the gate while we evacuate our personnel and various Langaran leaders and others deemed important by the Langaran government. Third and lastly, we devote our resources to helping defend Langara."

The implication of that last option hung in the air for a moment as no one at the SGC or the White House wanted to be the first to touch it. It was as if a group of very smart adults were playing hot potato at the intellectual level.

Finally, Daniel Jackson spoke up. "Mr. President, if I may?"

"Of course Dr. Jackson, go ahead."

"I'm not militarily adept enough to think I can debate options two or three, however, I can tell you that option one is not a good idea."

"Why exactly is that Dr. Jackson? In the past, the Langarans have been nothing short of a pain in the rear. Generals Hammond and O'Neill have made that plainly clear." The speaker was Admiral Jonathan Clark, the Chief of Naval Operations. "Please point out where it says that we're bound to assist the Langaran government. Last time I checked, they didn't join NATO or sign a mutual defense treaty."

Daniel did his best to hide his impassioned zeal, which usually came out at these moments. O'Neill was impressed. "Admiral Clark, we've just spent the last couple of months wining and dining the Langarans so that we could get their naquadah. If we were to just pick up and walk away, it would look horrible. Also, word would get out that we just left a friendly planet to get enslaved. Trust me, it will. You would be fooling yourself to think otherwise. What potential ally is going to want to deal with us if we run at the first sign of trouble?"

The National Security Advisor, Dr. Marsha Regan, spoke up. "I'm afraid Mr. President that I must agree with Admiral Clark. At what point, do we stop and say 'enough'? We've already sent a Marine Recon company and the _Daedalus_ to defend our Atlantis team from these Wraith beings. How many enemies can we make at once? Also, when this eventually goes public, it's going to look to the antiwar crowd like we're out looking for fights."

Admiral Clark wasn't budging from his position. "I understand you're point Doctor Jackson, but last time I checked, we hadn't been deputized as the interstellar 911 force. Are you advocating we make war on what's left of the System Lords? Last time I checked, we had a war of our own to fight at the moment." Admiral Clark scored some points with the participants with that observation. The war against terrorism was ongoing and required a lot of resources. The US military was spread thin. "Have the Langarans even asked for support yet?"

O'Neill spoke up, "No, I dispatched Colonel Carter to brief the Langaran government on the situation. She has three SG teams along as backup. I'd expect a formal request shortly though."

At this point, Daniel, who had returned from Langara for this meeting, felt the need to defend his position. "Admiral, I'm not advocating that we go looking for a fight, but are we going to walk away every time we're asked for help? And Dr. Regan, how do you think the antiwar crowd is going to feel about millions of humans being enslaved as we dove for cover? I don't think that would play well in Middle America."

The President had watched the debate flow back and forth for a few moments. He liked having people flesh out arguments in his presence. It allowed a myriad of options to develop, thereby not limiting potential solutions. Finally, he spoke up to get things on track.

"Alright, we know what our potential options are, but are they feasible? Dr. Jackson, I agree with your analysis to a certain extent. I don't like leaving a potential ally to be conquered either. But, what realistically can we do? It's not as if I can commit a couple of Marine regiments to this…"

The Commandant of the Marine Corps nearly blanched.

"…but I don't want to see us unilaterally pull out either. General O'Neill, are we in a position to secure the Langaran's stargate?"

"Yes sir. Colonel McNulty and his ops staff have drafted a plan for that type of scenario. The 7th Rangers would deploy to Langara to assist them in securing their stargate complex. From what we've been told, they have a sizable security force guarding it at an undisclosed location. At that point, we could decide to evacuate or assist in defense, whatever your decision. We can also put _Prometheus_ on alert for possible deployment to Langara should you decide to fight. The Russian Liaison, Colonel Chekov, also tells me that President Mikhailov will be contacting you to offer Russian military assistance."

"Oh, that's just what we need" muttered General Hugh Gresham, Army Chief of Staff.

The President looked like he was giving the entire matter deep thought. Finally, he looked up and made his decision: "Okay Jack, put Prometheus on alert and order Colonel McNulty to begin deploying the Rangers."

"Yes sir!"

_A secure Langaran military facility_

The stargate roared to life. The Lanagarn security force was in place to defend against a Jaffa incursion attempt. There had been no sightings of ships in orbit as of yet but no one was taking any chances. In the control room, a technician called out. "We're receiving a signal, it's from Earth. They're requesting permission to send a party through!"

"Let them come! Notify Commander Varan immediately!" The Langaran duty officer hoped the Americans brought good news.

A small group of men came through the wormhole. They weren't dressed like the others that had come from Earth. They wore a uniform with a different pattern of green, brown and black. They also wore helmets and load-bearing gear. They were armed to the teeth. The duty officer recognized highly trained warriors when he saw them. The lead soldier spoke up.

"Captain Curtis Miller, Alpha Company, 7th Rangers. I here you've got a Jaffa problem!"

_And so it begins…_


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Langaran Stargate Complex

Langara

Commander Sy Varan had served in Kelowna's army for over thirty years. Most of that time had been spent commanding front-line troops defending Kelowna's border. After the unification, he had been selected to command Langara's stargate program. During his career, he had seen a lot of different things. Some had been weirder or more exciting than others. The people of his planet, he reasoned, were a pretty hardy lot, if occasionally hard-headed. Once challenged though, he thought his race was pretty good at rising to a challenge. These Americans, on the other hand, were something to see he told himself.

Varan could only shake his head in wonderment every time he had extensive dealings with them. They're sense of purpose was actually awe-inspiring. The knowledge and professionalism of their troops made him realize the new Langaran Army had a ways to go. Most importantly, these Americans seemed to thrive on the adversity. They came with bad news but then immediately wanted to focus on solutions. They seemed to be immune from normal political squabbles once trouble arrived.

He had been a forceful advocate for rapprochement after the disaster that was the Naquadria Crisis. He was a staunch believer in civilian government and its control of the armed forces, but the conduct of their elected leaders during the crisis had been nothing short of embarrassing. _Then again, the planet survived_ he reasoned. Upon receiving the latest intelligence information from Lt. Col. Carter, Varan thought the Americans would most likely leave and let Langara fend for itself. Therefore, he was shocked to see reinforcements arriving through the stargate. That these Americans were expressing an interest in helping Langara defend itself was nothing short of a miracle. While his professional pride said that Langara was capable of winning this fight without a handout, his common sense reminded him that they had quite a ways to go to stand among the other planets in the suddenly larger universe as an equal.

All of these interesting, but at the moment completely useless thoughts were flowing through Varan's head as he stepped into a conference room at the fortified bunker that served as the headquarters of Langara's stargate project. The reason was to be a full briefing to the Joint Ruling Council regarding the threat to Langara and what assistance the United States would offer. Varan was left to hope that First Minister Dreyloc wouldn't annoy these Americans as badly as she did lat time.

Varan arrived to find Lt. Col. Samantha Carter talking to a group of Langaran officers and an American Varan didn't recognize. Carter did the introduction.

"Oh Commander Varan, it's good to see you. Allow me to introduce Lieutenant Colonel Terrance McNulty, US Army. Colonel McNulty and his force have been sent by our government to assist in securing your gate, with the approval of your leaders of course."

Varan was impressed. "I'm glad you're here Colonel. I only wish it was under better circumstances. What size force are you deploying and what are its capabilities?"

"Commander, I command a reinforced battalion of light infantry troops numbering approximately 660 men. We're armed with individual weaponry and crew-served weapons such as heavy machine guns and mortars. With the approval of your government, we'll deploy to secure your stargate and prevent a Goa'uld incursion. Those are the limits of my orders as of this moment." McNulty wasn't going to fish for other jobs until told so.

"I understand Colonel. Colonel Carter, your visiting teams should be arriving at any time."

"Good. We need to marshal our people and start preparing in earnest." Carter really wanted General O'Neill here. He had the most experience dealing with the Goa'uld of any officer in the US military.

As if on cue, SG's 19 and 29 entered the room and looked surprised to see their brethren from the SGC. Commander Rexford immediately made his way over. "Colonel Carter, good to see you, where do we stand?"

"We're about to brief the Joint Ruling Council when they arrive. The President has authorized us to secure the gate. We'll see from there what happens. I'll need your team along with SG's 3, 5, 11 and 29 to work with the Langarans and be their liaison to the 7th Rangers."

"Understood. Do we know the size of the Goa'uld force?"

"The latest Tok'ra intel places it at two mother ships and 7,500 loyal Jaffa."

"Shit, any word on assistance from the Free Jaffa?"

"Teal'c is working on that as we speak. We may also be getting some Russian help."

A Langaran officer entered and announced: "Ladies and Gentlemen, the Joint Ruling Council!" All the Langarans snapped to attention just as US personnel would do on Earth. First Minister Dreyloc and the other two ministers entered followed by Jonas Quinn and US Ambassador Howe and took places at a long conference table at the head of the room. Minister Dreyloc spoke first:

"Colonel Carter, it is always a pleasure to see you again. I wish the circumstances were better. Ambassador Howe tells us that your government is offering some form of assistance to counter this Goa'uld threat. What exactly are you prepared to offer?"

"First Minister, the President has authorized us to deploy our Rapid Reaction Force of over 600 men to help secure your stargate if your government approves. We are also preparing our battle cruiser, _Prometheus_ for deployment to combat the mother ships. In addition, he has requested that I relate the following offer: should your government desire to evacuate leading officials or scientists, the United States will offer sanctuary on Earth."

Jonas Quinn sat in quiet, understated shock. He had learned to never doubt his old friends from Earth, but this level of commitment was shocking.

"I appreciate your government's generosity Colonel. Hopefully, it will not come to that. Honestly, Colonel, can we hope to defeat this enemy?"

"I believe they can be defeated, First Minister. There is no other choice with a Goa'uld. It's victory, death or slavery. I'll now allow Lt. Col. McNulty, commander of our RRF, to brief you on what they can bring to the fight. Colonel?"

"First Minister, with your approval, the Rangers will deploy…"

Stargate Command

Cheyenne Mountain AS, CO.

It was turning into one hell of a busy day at the SGC. Everything else had been put on the back burner to deal with the Langaran issue. One problem on a single planet usually did not merit this type of attention, but when the President starts ordering troops into a potential combat zone, that tends to narrow the SGC's focus. All O'Neill could think was that he needed a vacation in Minnesota as soon as possible. He was sitting in his office going over plans with Colonel Dave Dixon, commander of SG-13. Dixon would be leading any further reinforcements to Langara.

"Dave, what's the re-supply look like?" No one ever talked about it, but logistics were going to be key. _Amateurs talk tactics, experts talk logistics._ Both O'Neill and Dixon knew the old adage well.

"I've got the supply chain forming now. Luckily the Rangers have a pre-stocked package at Peterson and Fort Carson. It's just a matter of moving it here. Colonel Vogel is handling the move plus arranging the stocks for the teams." Colonel Paul Vogel, USAF, was the SGC's J-4, Director of Logistics. He was in charge of procuring the bullets, beans, clothes and whatever else was needed and getting it to those who needed it.

As O'Neill and Dixon were talking there was a knock at the door. O'Neill's aide-de-camp stuck his head in the door.

"Sir, Colonel Chekov is here to see you."

"Send him in." O'Neill had just gotten the call a few minutes ago _The Russians were coming…_

"General, have you received word from the Pentagon? I have been informed by Moscow…"

"I've already heard from them. You were my next phone call. An airborne battalion? I just hope they're up to it." O'Neil _loved _tweaking Chekov whenever he could.

Chekov didn't bite _too hard._ "Trust me General; those Goa'uld bastards aren't going to know what hit them! They come from an elite Guards Airborne Division based near Moscow."

Dixon, facing away from Chekov, just arched his brow in a way that came close to making O'Neill break out in laughter.

"When do they arrive at Peterson?"

"Tomorrow morning. They're arranging the airlift now." O'Neill bet it was probably _American _airlift.

Langara

It was also becoming a long day for Sergeant Patrick Joyce. Since word had come regarding the impending Goa'uld attack, he hadn't gotten much sleep, as had any one else. SG-19 had gotten the assignment to work with the regiment of Langaran infantry assigned to defend the Joint Ruling Council's building. It also housed one of the government's key communications nodes. Joyce found he was working alongside his old shadow, Major Markham, who was on the operations staff of the regiment.

Markham's people seemed to be preparing for everything. "We're putting snipers in the building across the boulevard. If they launch a frontal assault, they'll pay."

"Major, be careful. You're starting to sound like an American."

"Hopefully, we shoot like one."

"Yeah, and the Goa'uld don't."

Langara's Orbit

In a flash of a nano-second, two Goa'uld mother ships came out of hyperdrive to assume position in a stationary orbit above the planet. By their design they looked like they were meant for one purpose: conquest. Nimar knew his place among the Goa'uld. If that were ever to change, he needed to start making bold moves. This was the first step.

Aboard one of the ships, the First Prime turned to his master:

"My lord, we are in orbit above the planet. There has been no response from the inhabitants as of yet."

"Good, contact our base. Order them to begin assaulting the gate. I want that gate secured as soon as possible. I can not have potential slaves escaping."

"Yes my lord!"

_To be continued…_


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Langaran Stargate Complex

Langara

Gettysburg. Lt. Col. Terry McNulty knew the famed American Civil War battle well. He had studied it extensively while in college and had visited the Pennsylvania hamlet after graduation. The Battle of Gettysburg had come to be due to a confluence of factors that neither side fully understood at the time. It was one of the most investigated clashes in human history, rivaling Cannae, Agincourt, Waterloo, Mons and The Bulge in the sheer amount of words written about it. Like many battles, it was an amalgam of tactical brilliance and command blunders. For McNulty, it provided an invaluable example for his current business.

The First Day. McNulty had invested a good amount of time studying July 1, 1863 and the actions of one man, Brigadier General John Buford, US Army. Buford commanded a brigade of cavalry at the time of the battle and it had been the first unit of either side to reach the town and its critical road junction. Buford correctly surmised that the Confederate Army would attempt to sweep south and position itself on the high ground outside Gettysburg. Buford knew that Confederate possession of the hills above Gettysburg would be disastrous for the Union forces moving from the south. That's when he made his move.

Buford had his outnumbered cavalry brigade dismount and fight a day-long delaying action against oncoming Confederate forces numbering in the thousands. Buford's men prevented the southerners from moving through the town in a speedy manner and forced them into battle. It gave Confederate commanders the impression that a much larger force awaited them in the town. That hesitation allowed the Union Army to invest the outlying hills and maintain a strong defensive position. The Confederates would spend the second and third of July attempting to evict the defenders, thereby sapping their strength and resources. The rest was history.

For McNulty and Lt. Col. Samantha Carter, history was coming back for a command performance. A much larger force was about to come knocking. For McNulty, the parallels were striking; he was about to play Buford to Nimar's Lee. McNulty's plan was roughly similar: make the Jaffa pay dearly for every inch of ground and make the Goa'uld's think they were facing thousands of well-armed soldiers. Hold Langara's key assets and await the _Prometheus_ and reinforcements. Above all else: HOLD THE STARGATE. Without it, everything else was useless.

Langara's stargate had been moved after Anubis' attack to a newly constructed bunker complex. This complex was a series of inter-connected bunkers varying in depth from 150 to 200 meters below ground. The actual room holding the gate was similar to the one at the SGC except for a platform near the ceiling running around the three-quarters of the room facing the gate. This platform allowed riflemen a clear shot from above of anything coming through the gate. It would be put to use.

For this key mission, McNulty selected his lead company, Alpha Company, commanded by Captain Curtis Miller. Miller, a West Point graduate, was setting up the nastiest welcoming a Jaffa had ever received. Miller's 120+ Rangers would defend the gate room and the bunker complex. Miller was briefing McNulty, Carter and Commander Varan on the plan.

"Okay, we're in good shape. It's an integrated defense. We've got three positions facing the event horizon, each with a 240B…" The M-240B is a crew-served 7.62 MM machine gun capable of throwing out 200-600 rounds per minute. Needless to say, three facing the gate would put on a show. "50 Rangers will defend the gate room from any incoming assault troops both at ground level and from the catwalk. The rest of A Co. will be in the adjoining hallways and bunkers. We've got a series of machine gun emplacements and fortified positions. We've also set up claymores all over. If it becomes necessary, we'll set them off by hand." Miller had set up a classic defense-in-depth, meant to bleed the attackers white.

Carter was impressed. "Captain, I don't need to be telling _you_ this. You've got to hold. This may be the only way home. You'll have SG's 5 & 11 with your force."

"I'll take all the help I can get."

In the gate room itself, preparations were complete. The Rangers had set up perfect fields of fire from which they could cut down any Jaffa coming through. The room had actually been rather quiet when, in the slang of the US military, the shit hit the fan…

The stargate began to activate with its usual turning and lighting of individual chevrons. To the Rangers, every lit chevron was like a countdown meant especially for them. They knew at seven hell was coming through that gate. Soldiers, both American and Langaran, took up their prearranged positions. As the seventh chevron activated, the men of A Co. tensed. The event horizon appeared and with it, its tell-tale _swoosh_. For a moment nothing appeared, and then two small silver orb-like devices rolled through. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they meant. Voices rang out:

GRENADE!

The two small silvery orbs rolled ever so gently down the ramp from the gate, as harmless as baseballs at a Little League game. The defenders waited for the inevitable explosion, but what came instead was a deafening sound and bright and intense light. They were not grenades or explosives but a Goa'uld version of flash bangs, used on Earth to stun and immobilize its intended targets. Luckily, the defenders were immune to most of its effects since they had taken cover. They recovered just in time to welcome Nimar's first invading warrior. A Jaffa ran out of the water-like wormhole with a blood-curdling scream:

AAAAAAHHHHH!

The obviously impassioned warrior had just enough time through the gate that his eyes widened in recognition of his impending death at the hands of the Tauri, otherwise known as Alpha Company, 7th Ranger Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment of the United States Army. Captain Miller gave the order:

OPEN FIRE! DROP THESE ASSHOLES!

A sheer wall of flame, like that of some vengeful god these very Jaffa might worship, leapt out at the warriors running through the gate. The first warrior was hit in the midsection above the waist by a stream of 7.62 rounds which cut him nearly in two. The second Jaffa was decapitated with similar gusto. Soon a massacre was in the making as warriors streamed through in groups of 5-10. Each successive group was torn apart before they knew what was taking place. It got to the point that Jaffa were tripping on bodies and body parts as they came through and were shot. A lone warrior came through, and having enough time to see the fate of his colleagues, jumped off the ramp to the side. He managed to get off a shot at a Ranger, missing wildly, before a soldier on the catwalk tore open his chest with a burst of 5.56 MM from his M-4 rifle.

Each of the Rangers was a superbly trained marksman but the current fight came down to throwing a massive amount of lead at the incoming invaders. Blood, bone and tissue was splattered in all directions as rounds of various calibers tore through Jaffa.

As quickly as the Jaffa assault and its attending slaughter had commenced, it ended with the stargate's wormhole disengaging. For a moment, there was an eerie stillness. Then A Co.'s First Sergeant yelled out:

"Any wounded!"

Amazingly, none of the American or Langaran defenders had suffered a scratch, while arrayed in front of the now-dormant gate lay 75 to 100 Jaffa bodies in varying states of immolation. Carter came out of the fighting position she had fought from and stared at the carnage wordlessly. She knew immediately that the SGC and Earth had just entered a new realm in its existence. _No more covert stuff for us,_ she thought, _we've thrown down the gauntlet._

Captain Miller was busy supervising the quick removal of the Jaffa strike team and the resupply of ammunition. As he and his troops reorganized, he managed to take a brief look at the beating his men had inflicted. Miller had see much in places like Iraq, Afghanistan and various other holes, but this was something entirely different. While he knew the Jaffa only as an enemy, he was moved by their sacrifice. He remembered his Shakespeare, which humans invariably fell back on in such moments. A piece of _Henry V, Act IV_ came to him:

O God, thy arm was here;

And not to us, but to thy arm alone,

Ascribe we all! When, without stratagem,

But in plain shock and even play of battle,

Was ever known so great and little loss,

On one part and on th' other? Take it, God,

For it is none but thine!

Joint Ruling Council Building

Langaran Capitol

For Sergeant Pat Joyce, Shakespearean prose was the last thing on his mind. Since word had come of the initial Goa'uld assault on the stargate, SG-19 had been in position with the Langaran Army's 8th Regiment of Foot guarding the main government complex. Before them was a large square facing the main part of the city. From their rooftop position, they could defend against a frontal assault. Or react to any sudden change in Goa'uld strategy.

Word had reached them that the Rangers had put a beating on a small Jaffa force. Commander Rexford and his Langaran colleagues expected as many or more would try to take the capitol in short order. So far, Nimar was playing by the Goa'uld "playbook" and apparently was unaware that Earth had thrown in with the Langarans. _His loss, _Joyce thought.

As if on cue, multiple Death Gliders and Al'kesh's began buzzing the city, shooting at various communications towers and other targets of significance. They apparently were trying to both cut communications and scare the hell out of the locals, Joyce thought. In no time, two Tel'tak transport ships hovered overhead and began to descend into the square below. Joyce looked over at Commander Rexford, who was hunched a few feet away.

Rexford used hand signals to telegraph what he wanted:

_Wait until they're on the ground, then take 'em out with AT-4's._

Joyce nodded his acknowledgement. The AT-4 is small man-portable anti-tank weapon that was found to be useful against Goa'uld ships on the ground. Major McGann helped Joyce set up and ready the weapon. Then, they waited. As the second ship landed, the first opened its hatch and Jaffa started to come out. Joyce took aim and squeezed. The rocket launched and made straight for the defenseless transport, hitting perfectly inside the hatchway. Jaffa infantry, not ready for the sudden shot, were blown in several directions. The transport itself exploded in a shower of sparks that set off a fusillade of secondary explosions. To Joyce's left, Commander Rexford launched his rocket at the second Tel'tak, with similar results. Concentrated fire from the Langarans finished off any survivors.

Without missing a beat, Joyce looked over the ledge, smiled and shouted:

"WELCOME TO THE NIEGHBORHOOD!"

Commander Rexford called out. "Let's re-deploy to a new location."

The fight was on…

_To be continued…_


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Stargate Command

Cheyenne Mountain Air Station, CO

Doctor Daniel Jackson was wrapped in thought during what he guessed would be his only quiet time of the day. Quiet moments were not exactly a luxury that he had had an ample supply of lately or that life at the SGC provided. He knew that outside his office was a building momentum of preparation, planning and movement. The SGC was going to war again. He could only commiserate with his thoughts as everyone hustled about doing their individual jobs. Jackson never fully appreciated what a machine the United States military was until a crisis erupted. It was then as if a colony of ants had gotten a new job. Everyone involved then went into overdrive.

As an idealist, Jackson detested conflict and believed in fostering cooperation and understanding among peoples, races and the like. As a veteran pragmatist however, Jackson had compartmentalized much of his idealism a while back. Years of traveling through the gate and experiencing what there was to be had in the universe had tempered his passions somewhat. That wasn't to say that he subscribed to Locke's opinion of life: _nasty, brutish and short._ However, he knew better than most that it wasn't wine and roses either.

Even though Jackson had stridently argued for the Earth to assist Langara, doubts were still nagging him. _Why should a private from Topeka, Kansas be fighting and maybe dying on a planet that until recently, he didn't know existed, against aliens impersonating some childhood nightmare?_ Jackson believed with all his heart that the government needed to be preparing the country, and by cooperation with other governments the world, for the eventual day when the truth about the universe would be made public. The potential fate of the Langarans could eventually be the fate of Earth, and Jackson was determined to make sure that didn't happen. He didn't want to see some of America's best and brightest die, but at some point a stand had to be taken. In the previous decade, Jackson and his colleagues had taken more stands for Earth and the United States than he could reasonably count. Now, he reasoned, others would step up to be counted.

_Goa'uld, Replicators, Aschen, Wraith. The laundry list of adversaries just seems to grow. Will it ever end?_ When the program had started in earnest, Jackson had hoped that the SGC's teams would be the vanguard of a new day that included meeting new friends in the galaxy and developing innovative scientific advancements. To some extent that had happened. _Abydonians, Tok'ra, Langarans, Asgard._ Jackson couldn't help but be a little disappointed though, that his idealism hadn't born more fruit, so to speak.

While Daniel Jackson was in his office philosophizing about life and the SGC, others were knee-deep in the more immediate matters of the day. Two levels down in the conference room, Brigadier General O'Neill was learning how generals usually fight wars: from the rear. He didn't like it.

O'Neill was still in shock at the report from Carter and McNulty. No casualties in the initial assault! The Rangers had also shot down five Death Gliders using the Stinger man-portable surface-to-air missile.

"Do we have any idea if Nimar knows who he's fighting here? Or does he still think the Langarans are alone?" That was the $64,000 question and O'Neill was desperate for an answer.

"Sir, if they know about our assisting the Langarans, they haven't shown it." The speaker was Captain Pete Varnum from the 7th Rangers' operations staff. Varnum had just gated back to Earth with the AAR, or After-Action Report, on the first contact with Nimar's Jaffa. "They were definitely playing all the usual Goa'uld tactics. We expect they'll take another shot at the gate soon, followed by another assault on the capitol. If that fails, then all bets are off."

Colonel Glyndon looked over at O'Neill. "That's correct sir. At some point, Nimar will pull back and bombard Langara. We need _Prometheus_ there ASAP." The President had finally given the order sending Earth's first fully operational battle cruiser to Langara. She was also carrying a company of Marines and two SG teams. Their mission would be to board the Goa'uld vessels if they needed to.

O'Neill looked over at his operations officer, Colonel Henson. "What's her ETA to Langara Bill?"

"18 hours sir. We should get a revised ETA from Colonel Ronson soon."

"Alright, we need to begin moving the reinforcements through the gate. Captain, are Colonel's Carter and McNulty ready for them?"

"Yes sir. We'll take whatever you can spare."

The reinforcements O'Neill was referring to were significant. Russia had contributed a battalion of airborne troops. In addition, the SGC was sending a medical detachment and its combat engineer squadron along with tons of supplies. The British were sending a platoon of Special Air Service commandos who'd been training to work at the SGC and a company of Royal Marines eventually tabbed for the Atlantis mission.

O'Neill was scheduled to talk to General Maynard in a few minutes. There was no way in hell that he was going to continue running this little war from Earth. He needed to have his boots on the ground with his people. He planned to make his case to Maynard and the President.

Langara

Carter was not happy. Things were too quiet. In the few hours since the initial assault, there had been very little activity on the Goa'uld's part. No massive bombardments or Jaffa assaults. Random attacks by gliders had been it. In some ways, it was good. The lack of activity was giving the defenders valuable time to strengthen defenses and consolidate. But it was also giving them a lot of time to dwell on what might be coming, especially the Langarans. Colonel McNulty was keeping his Rangers busy, not that they needed the encouragement. Carter was standing in the gate room when Commander Varan walked over.

"Are you alright Colonel?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"You looked rather concerned. I thought maybe there was a problem."

"No, no problems. I'm just tired of waiting for the Goa'uld to make another move. We'd almost be better off with them attacking, that way we'd know what they were doing."

"I'm going to ask an interesting question Colonel. I hope you won't take offense when I ask: Why are you here? This isn't Earth's fight. We're ecstatic to have you but I'd like to know why. You hardly know us yet you'll fight to the death against a fierce enemy with us."

"Commander, I've seen first hand what a Goa'uld is capable of. I've witnessed cruelty and atrocities I hardly thought were possible. My people are just taking their first small steps in this universe, just as your people will soon. If we are all to live in some peace in this universe, we all have to stand up to the cruel and despotic forces around us. I'm pretty secure in saying that's how our leaders feel. We're not going to run out on someone at their darkest hour. Honestly also, I know my government wants to negotiate for the naquadria. Should Nimar get the naquadria, it would help him strengthen his position among the Goa'uld."

"I appreciate the honesty Colonel."

Carter and Varan continued talking for a few more minutes while troops scurried around them reinforcing positions or relieving other soldiers from their posts. American and Langaran soldiers mostly spent the time swapping stories and comparing various sports. The Rangers were trying to convince the Langarans that baseball, the NFL and beer were the greatest things in the known universe.

The quiet of the bunker was disturbed by the sudden activation of the stargate. Everyone manning the defenses jumped to their positions with renewed urgency. Carter keyed her tactical radio:

"Sierra Gulf One to Ranger Six Actual, BLACK HOLE, I say again BLACK HOLE!"

"Ranger Six Actual copies!"

Ranger Six Actual was the radio call sign for Lt. Col. McNulty and BLACK HOLE was their pre-arranged call sign for stargate activation. Carter knew it was very likely to be the SGC dialing in but no chances were taken. Langarans and Americans tensed for the wormhole. It arrived with its tell-tale sound:

SWOOOSH!

Carter looked over at a Ranger communications specialist manning a headset. He caught her gaze and shook his head; no signal from the SGC. For a few moments the wormhole sat there, not disgorging anyone or anything. Suddenly two Jaffa warriors carrying staff weapons appeared through the wormhole and seemed to walk forward matter-of-factly as the wormhole disengaged. They didn't look concerned at all. The sight actually surprised Carter so much that she was momentarily speechless. A Ranger lieutenant commanding the first line of defenders didn't have that problem:

"DROP YOUR WEAPONS NOW!"

To call the look on the faces of the two warriors shock would be an understatement of gargantuan proportions. They weren't expecting this reception. Their men should have taken the facility hours ago. Both looked at the force in front of them with a mix of shock and annoyance. They weren't entirely sure what they saw. Soldiers in a form of camouflage uniform with some sort of helmet. Their faces were painted the same black-brown-green colors of their garb. No matter, more worshippers for Nimar… The lead Jaffa spoke:

"My lord Nimar claims this planet and its inhabitants will bow before their god!"

"DROP THOSE FUCKING WEAPONS NOW!"

The second Jaffa raised the head of his staff weapon slightly as if he planned to point and activate it. This potentially hostile move was greeted in kind. The warriors head exploded, showering the lead Jaffa in blood and brain matter, courtesy of a .50 caliber round from a McMillan sniper rifle fired by a Ranger on a catwalk. The lead Jaffa was frozen. He had never seen such cold-blooded defiance from "primitives" before.

"UNLESS YOU WANT SOME OF THAT, DROP YOUR STAFF WEAPON NOW!"

The Jaffa thought the better of it and gently bent down and laid his staff on the platform. Two Rangers moved toward him with their M-4's pointed at his chest. The first lowered his weapon and forced the Jaffa to the floor, where he bound his wrists with flexi-cuffs. Carter could only shake her head. _And behind Door #2…_

Two hours later, the stargate activated once more. This time however, the SGC's signal was received and the reception was somewhat warmer. Carter, McNulty and Commander Varan looked up to see BG O'Neill leading men through. O'Neill walked down the platform and smiled at the assembled group.

"Hi gang, I hear the neighborhood's going to hell.

Carter could only smile. _Good, old Jack…_ "Yes sir, the new neighbors aren't playing nice. I see you brought some help."

"Yeah, this is Colonel Arkady Vasilev, commander of 1st Battalion, 18th Guards Airborne Division. The battalion is Russia's contribution to our little party."

Introductions and handshakes were made. Colonel Vasilev looked all business. O'Neill got right down to it. "Alright, I need a sit-rep and then, Commander, I need to see the First Minister."

"Of course, General."

Meanwhile…

Two intelligence officers from the Rangers' operations staff were trying to strike up a conversation with their newest guest, the Jaffa who had wisely laid down his staff weapon at the gate. It wasn't going well…

"There's no harm in giving us your name. Exactly how would we use it against you?" 1st Lt. Anthony Tomassini, a native of the Queens section of New York City, had interrogated a lot of people in the last couple of years. Taliban, Al-Queda, Iraqis. He had dealt with an entire litany of ruthlessly dedicated and fanatical types. It may take time, but he knew he'd break the Jaffa's psychological barriers.

Tomassini found at an early age that he was a natural listener. A devout Roman Catholic, Tomassini would have most likely become a priest if he wasn't soldiering on another planet. His uncle, a Dominican friar, believed he was made for the confessional, listening to others pour themselves out. Everyone he knew or met felt they could confide in Anthony Tomassini. And they felt better for it in the end. He was now putting his immense skill to work on a man who, like Earth's Taliban extremists, viewed unbelievers as nothing more than highly verbal cattle. Tomassini had seen the look before and knew what to do with it.

"Are you afraid you'll offend your lord and master by giving me your name? I only wish to show the proper respect by using your name. I can't believe that would offend your master."

"He is not only my master, he is my god! You will submit!"

_Bingo, got you talking._ "Let's talk about your god…"

_To be continued…_


End file.
